Watchful Roads
by Zeleck
Summary: Two brothers and a girl with a motor mouth. You wouldn't think they would change and redefine Pokemon and the world around them, but then again, neither did they.


Descent into Madness

...

**1.**

Bright lights pierced the nightime sky of Saffron City. Cars raced by at a constant clip as young couples, businessmen, children and everyone in between moved from place to place, point to point, without a care for the world. The iconic purple smog continued to choke the city, lending its name to the world. Few would dare turn their heads to watch others, to wave or even nod as they went about their blithe night.

Fewer would look up.

Up, past the army of offices and department stores, to the very top of the Silph Industries tower, where war waged on.

Arcanine slammed into the ground at Mach speed. Specks of blood-clotted hair spread from the rubble as it turned to its feet, baring its fangs and giving no fear to the opposition. The stoic Alakazam reformed its emotionless stance, aiming its sights on extinguishing the fiery hound.

"Houdini!"

Alakazam tensed at its master's call—

"Psychic attack! Now!"

Arcanine darted back and forth, a healthy blur of red and orange, but Alazakam's ancient eyes could discern illusions from impact. It squinted, readied itself for the strike—

"Shana, now's your chance!"

The inferno blazed forth—

"Fire Blast! Now!"

The unrelenting attack soared into the field, searing the stage and exploding against the blank expanse of infinite night sky. The Alakazam was fast, but no force in this world was fast enough—

Alakazam went down, but the flames kept coming—

"Matteo!" A bystander cried. "Matteo, no!"

The trainer crumpled to the ruined floor, flames dancing on his skin and steaming into the air. A younger man—barely a man—ran to the fallen warrior.

The wait for the fires to burn out made torture look easy.

He ran to the defeated trainer, cradling the burnt mass of pained flesh in his lap.

"Mathias!" The trainer cried out weakly, "I'm so sorry... I tried..."

"Matteo..." The boy said again. His tears came without care for what he wants. And then again, almost pleading: "Matteo..."

"I'm sorry, Mathias," said the victorious opponent. His words were the lowest tone possible by human words; a garish parody of a man. "I never meant for this to happen, I never thought it would go this far..."

"Shut up!"

"I had no choice, Mathias—"

"Shut _up!_" The defeated trainer's breaths grew shallowed and labored. His eyelids sank lower by the second.

"No, Matteo," Mathias sobbed. "Don't leave me! You're all I have."

The body in his arms felt like just that: a body, nothing more.

"Brother... please!"

"Mathias?" It choked out. The boy clung to its words with everything he had.

"I'm here," Mathias said.

"Hey," he coughed. "Wanna know a secret?"

Mathias nodded. Because what else could he do but nod?

The trainer put his charred lips to Mathias's ear—

"I'm scared, kid brother."

The image faded slowly, like the color melting out of the portrait in Mathias's exhausted vision.

He blinked once.

The world was suddenly new.

Seventeen year old Mathias Tarlen awoke in his room, in a cold sweat. His brother, twenty-year-old Matteo Tarlen, leaned against the wall beside him. His face looked worried, his body folded with impatience. "You okay, man?" He asked.

Mathias took a moment to realize: it was a dream.

"Mathias?"

Only a dream.

"Hello in there? Earth to the little guy?" Matteo sang. He knocked his knuckles lightly against Mathias's head of mahogany bed-head. Mathias recoiled and launched a flailing uppercut at nothing.

"That got your attention!" Matteo laughed. When Mathias didn't do the same, his golden smile turned bronze. "Kid, everything all right?"

Mathias might be awake, but he wasn't awake enough to _talk_.

"Bloody hell. Late night with the dancing girls? Don't get me wrong, but you look a little whiter than usual," he laughed. When Mathias didn't reply, Matteo did what he did best: he became a big brother. He sat at Mathias's side and stared through his younger brother's eyes, straight through the brotherly banter facade.

"Same dream as before?" Matteo asked.

Mathias took in a hard breath, then another for safety.

"Yeah," Mathias replied. "Its just," he looked for the words. "It's kind of...always the same dream now?"

Matteo gave him the upturned eyebrow, arms re-folded and head cocked.

Mathias had to ask. "How bad was I this time?"

"Pretty bad," Matteo answered back, getting up from the chair. "I had to use Houdini to restrain you."

Houdini: the Matteo's Alakazam, the one he took to work to help with heavy lifting, and the one that occasionally had to restrain Mathias during his kicking-and-screaming nightmares.

Not to be confused with Houdini: subject of kicking-and-screaming nightmares.

"Sorry about that..." Matteo grinned, scratching the lint from his deep brown, unwashed head of wavy hair.

"Not a problem, kid. We're brothers. Its what I'm here for."

"Yeah, yeah," Mathias threw his legs over the bed. "You pay the bills and keep the roof over my head, and I avoid doing dishes."

"You left out the part where I'm better-looking than you, but that's the gist of it," Matteo said. "I'm also the one that reminds you of important dates."

"Important dates?" Mathias scoffed. "I don't have anything important to do. _You're _the adult."

"Like I said," Matteo repeated.

Mathias paused. He went through the barren itinerary of his life.

"Laundry day was yesterday."

"Not what I was going for, but also true," Matteo winced.

The answer raced through his mind at a terminal velocity. Mathias grinned, "Hey! I completely remember now."

Then: "That...that one thing."

"That's as good as I'll get today," Matteo said to nobody. "Yes, that one thing. Aren't you excited?"

"I was born excited." If he wasn't before, Mathias was awake now. Gasoline raced through his veins.

"Born excited," Matteo sighed. "Man, seventeen years of unbridled excitement. May the forces of extreme energy have mercy on us all."

"Seventeen years is long enough to start a war. _And _end it. And make bad movies about it."

"It's long enough for a baby to grow up and get out of bed.

"You're the baby," Matteo added. "Now hurry up and get dressed. Proffessor Oak is going to call you from the Poke center at Nine".

"That's fine. The sun's not even up yet."

With an offensively vicious motion, Matteo ripped the blinds from the wall. The bright lights seared across the room—

"What is your _problem?_"

"Nice Ash Ketchum boxers, kid brother. I see you're already in the correct frame of mind for shenanigans."

"I'm three years younger than you. Don't call me a kid."

"Yeah, and you're twenty minutes late for your appointment." And just before the resounding smirk: "Kid."

Mathias's eyes darted to the worn Snorlax clock on the nightstand.

"What time was my—"

"Nine."

"And it's eight fifty—"

"Yep."

Mathias waited for a comeback. It was a textbook effort in futility, right next to getting Mathias to shower every other day and having clean dishes every morning.

"Well," Mathias said. "That's...that's shit."

"Don't swear. And yes, it is."

Mathias's mind flew as he struggled to find clothes. In a rush of unshowered musk, clothing that tragically missed out on laundry day, and energy, Mathias found himself racing out the door. Matteo caught up to him quickly enough,hunk of toast wedged in his teeth and snarking expression welded to his face.

"I wonder what your first Pokemon's gonna be," Matteo asked, turning around to march backward and jut out his tongue. "Knowing you? A Jigglypuff seems legit."

Mathias winced. Their Mother hadn't taught them to be saints, but when in doubt, take the higher path. That higher path being _not_ decking your older brother in his fat jaw. "Professor Oak usually has people choose from Bulbasaur, Charmander, and Squirtle."

"Or Pikachu, if you're that guy on your underwear." He paused. "You didn't change them, by the way."

Whatever. Mathias had bigger things to worry about. Namely, his ascention to Pokemon Mastery.

Up there with the likes of Red and Lance, Mathias would be plastered on the posters of every kid in Kanto. Doing all eight gyms, battling schmoes on the road and getting caught up in politics would be Red's thing...Mathias was his own man.

"It's gonna be different for me," Mathias announced.

"Got that right. Oak might just hang up on you once he sees your hair."

The two of them arrived at the Pokemon Center. In a towns like Veridian and Pallet, the Pokemon Center might as well be the mecca of society; in the urban sprawl of Saffron City, the meager Pokemon Center was sandwiched between a PokeMart, a mini-mall with a particularly-dubious orthodontist, and _another_ PokeMart.

But it didn't matter. Mathias wouldn't be back here again. In twenty minutes—tops!—he would be out and living in the Pokemon World. Nothing could—

"Don't look now, but your girlfriend is here." Matteo folded his hands behind his head.

Mathias cocked an eyebrow. "What are you talking about—"

"You know what I hate about Pokemon Centers? The _food._"

Standing directly in front of the doors, blocking off the entrance and Mathias's hopes of city escape with her frizzy curls and overalls, stood a certain Winifred McInnis. Mathias considered diving back across the street, back into his sheets and considering becoming an accountant—would you believe they make good money?—when her round head turned just too far to the left.

"Mathias, why doesn't the Pokemon Center have donuts?"

"Because this is a Pokemon Center," Matteo said jubilantly, turning and offering a slight bow. Only in Winifred's mind would a bow be somehow not ironic. "They serve Pokemon food. I think the People Center has people food.

"Just a hunch," he shrugged. "What brings you here this morning, Fredster?"

"That's kind of you to ask," she bounced on the balls of her gargantuan feet. Winifred took a brief stint as newspaper girl a year or so back; the heinous thumping of her yeti-sized struts put his alarm clock out of a job. "Today's the day I get my first Pokedude!"

"Pokemon."

"Whatever floats your boat, Mathias!" She beamed. In Mathias' opinion, Winifred's mouth moved at a mile per unbearable minute. Her mouth flopped open, snapped shut, and curled into a confused smile seamlessly. "Wait...What are you doing here? I thought you had to get jobs after you Mom like, died and stuff."

Mathias cringed. Classy girl.

"_I _have a job," Matteo said, slapping a hand onto his brother's adolescent frame. "Kid brother here is a professional food repository. And..."

Mathias crossed his fingers. The Tarlen family wasn't exactly a familiar presence at church on Sunday, but in that moment, he was a praying man.

"Yeah, he's here for his first Pokemon."

So much for faith. Winifred's energy skyrocketed, as though she her strings were suddenly pulled upward by the puppetmaster. Her chubby finger wagged in Mathias' scrunched face.

"_You're_ gonna be a Trainer kid too!"

The words dripped out of Mathias's lips with the ease of particularly-well-cultured sulfuric acid. "Yes," he said. "Yes, I will be."

Winifred jumped short, gleeful hops. Her fists bunched into her chest, and her eyes shut tight. She may have been sixteen, but mistaking her for a delirious seven-year-old wasn't too hard.

Mathias turned to Matteo, the slightest hint of fear in his gray eyes. The unspoken signal for 'help me', returned with the spoken older brother signal of—

"Hey, Fredder-kedder?" Matteo asked. Winifred rotated toward him as if on a spindle. "You two are gonna be late for your appointment, right?"

A shrill, piercing gasp flew from her freckled face. "That's _right! _Mathias, we'll be uber-late!"

She gripped Mathias's tired arm and pulled him like the hapless ragdoll his brother saw him as. There was no time to fight back; Mathias found himself standing before the video phone in the Pokemon Center lobby, his throbbing arm an unfortunate captive of Winifred the Socially-Self-Destructive Neighbor Kid. She punched in the phone number with a shaking finger.

The iconic older voice came through shaky at first, accompanied by a static 'now waiting' visual. Soon, the fatherly words were coming across in stereo, and the caring eyes of the unique Professor Oak stared back at them.

"Yes?" He asked benignly.

"It's me, sir! Winifred McInnis, reporting for duty!"

"...Who?"

"I have an appointment to become a Pokedude Battler Guy! And I've got Mathias Turlen here, too!" She said, giving his arm what was meant to be a light tug. Mathias' arm nearly tore from the socket.

"Hello," Mathias said, looking at the screen. On the bright side, he was here now. A Bulbasaur, Charmander, or Squirtle lie in his immediate destiny of Pokemon Legendarihood. Which would be a word as soon as he became mighty enough to invent it.

Professor Oak pulled a clipboard from a shelf behind his computer screen. His tired eyes scrolled to the end of the list. "Winifred and Mathias...well, I have good news and bad news."

The good news is that there's a Bulbasaur/Charmander/Squirtle waiting for Mathias, and that Winifred has to go home and never talk to him in public again?

"The good news is, you're not too late to become trainers." Oak looked at the camera, but Mathias could feel him looking directly at Winifred when he added: "'Trainer'."

"That's what I said!"

He took a breath. "The bad news is, I just gave away my last set of starter Pokemon."

"That's no problem!" Winifred sang. "I'll totally take a Mewtwo. Or Red's Charizard, if he's okay with that."

Mathias rubbed his temples.

"I have other Pokemon available," Oak continued, ignoring the pitfall of dealing with Winifred. "They were not originally meant for rookie trainers, but I think you both have the energy to handle them—"

"Believe it!"

Nurse Joy looked up from her desk. Great, Mathias's first day on the job and he was already blacklisted from a Pokemon Center.

Three Pokemon appeared on the screen, followed by statistics in size-two font. Mathias skimmed the first few lines: potential movelists, typical growth patterns, weaknesses and super-effective techniques, and so-on. He recognized the first two before his brain could process the images.

"Pikachu! Done! I call dibs!" Winifred pounded her hand against the screen.

Mathias called on his shell-shocked vocal chords. "It's not a touch-screen..."

"Who said it was?" She asked, eyes glued to the screen.

Oak's voice continued to bellow from the speakers. "That seems reasonable enough. Pikachu are quite popular in the Indigo League tournaments these days." And in a lower voice: "I can't possibly fathom why..."

Mathias looked back at the screen. He recognized the formidable Mankey from his occasional walks outside the city limits, on days where running away from home became a legitimate alternative to washing dishes. Mankey could pick a fight and reliably finish it, but Mathias had reservations.

Specifically, Mankey were common.

Any kid with a Pokeball and enough time to kill could end up snagging a Mankey. It said 'I'm a trainer', but it didn't say 'I'm _the _trainer'. And what was the point, if not to be _the_ trainer?

That left one option.

"I'll take the stuffed animal with the pillow for a tail," Mathias said.

"Ah! You mean Eevee, the Evolution Pokemon?"

"Yeah, that one," Mathias sighed. He saw his life on one of those Expectation/Reality diagrams.

Expectation: elemental hero, capable of taking down any opposition and with outrageous growth potential.

Reality: stuffed animal from the carnival.

The images of the three Pokemon disappeared from the monitor. Oak began typing at a hidden keyboard, his eyes racing between them and the rookie trainers rapidly. "I have to warn you," Oak said. "Eevee can be a handful."

"How can he be a handful?" Winifred asked, touching a finger to her lower lip. "It looks like a muffin with legs." Then: "Adorable, really. It kind of suits you, Mathias."

Please, stop talking. Or smiling at me. Dear God, not the smile.

"That's not what I mean," Oak said. "Eevee as a species are quite the mascot character. But this one in particular is—"

"I'll take it," Mathias said. Anything to get him outside faster.

The furious fingertaps from Oak's keyboard ceased, and with a very-audible 'ding!', a small tray appeared from the bottom of the screen. Two Pokeballs rested in the front holes of a box for six, one facing Winifred and another to Mathias.

Winifred's hand became a blur of motion. Her fingers whipped out, snatched the Pokeball, and pulled it to her cheek in a whirlwind. Only Winifred could snuggle a hunk of metal.

Mathias held the Pokeball in his palm dubiously. Eevee, huh. How bad could it be? Plenty of trainers started with Eevee. As everyone knew, Eevee could evolve into, like, a gabillion different types. Didn't that Blue guy have an Eevee?

...Didn't he lose?

That was beside the point. Blue was a failure of the recent past, and Mathias was the hero of the Pokemon present—

Mathias felt a curious tickle at his legs.

"What's taking you so long?"

He looked down: Winifred's Pikachu nibbled at his worn jeans like a child on a wet sucker. Mathias yanked his leg away fast enough that he almost lost balance. And in the instant he was looking away, Winifred clicked the little white button in the center.

The moment he had been waiting for—

Mathias's first Pokemon, with whom he would take the world by storm, appeared at his feet—

"Mathias, it's so _cute!_" Winifred pointed. "It's totally licking your shoe!"

...Was this for real?

...

Thanks for getting this far! Review if you saw something you liked, and even if you don't and didn't, you're the best for reading!


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